


♦ Rotten Guy, Grotesque Romance

by EvelynLawliet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodlust, Crossdressing, Heavy Angst, M/M, Painplay, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynLawliet/pseuds/EvelynLawliet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'll hold you close, I'll break you in, let's raise a toast to our final sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	♦ Rotten Guy, Grotesque Romance

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this. I just wanted to write and there was this Vocaloid song and...Well, I only drew a line at cruelty to animals, which is described in the song, although I honestly can't write that. So...Yeah, I'm not sure if I should apologize for this, but I probably should. Sorry.

If he were to keep telling himself the same lies he had all his life, he would say he didn’t know how they ended up like that. That he didn’t remember the first time he walked in his new house, settled his first box inside and headed outside, where he found Him grinning and waving from the house in front of his own. That he didn’t remember the first picture he took of Him, the one in which He was sitting on the hood of His car, holding a beer. Another man, a taller one, was sat by His side, but Castiel made sure to focus the picture on Him. At the time, he was hiding by his window, just watching, when he looked at his side and the camera just stood there, waiting for him to give the first step. And who was he to deny the object this little pleasure?

The first time He had come to his house was a day of pure joy for the blue-eyed man. It had been three weeks since had moved in and by then he already had a secret bedroom – his favorite bedroom – filled with pictures of Him during His daily routine. Of course, he made sure to lock said bedroom and keep the key where no one but himself would find it. He couldn’t be happier with that decision when He asked to watch the afternoon’s game with him, claiming that His television was broken. At first Castiel thought it was just something He had made up to spend some time with him, but then he remembered the countless women He took to His home. Never once a man.

Little to no words were spoken as they stared quietly at the set. That is, _He_ stared at it, since Castiel was very busy memorizing how His face looked that close. At some point while He asked sheepishly to come inside, still standing by the front door’s threshold, He had said His name and Castiel had treasured it; had written it all over his bedroom once He was back at His own place, even if he didn’t allow himself to think of it. Not because he didn’t like it – no, it suited Him perfectly. But he was already used to this God-like conception he had of Him, and he liked it so much better.

His arm bled into the wooden floor of his private bedroom as he ran a knife along its underside just before caressing his fingers through the wounds and writing that name of sin; of desire. He wrote it in the small spaces between the photos on the wall, then kneeled down to write it on the floor, the knife licking his other arm when the blood of only one wasn’t enough anymore, and he felt pleasure while doing it. Sexual pleasured that led into a messy and bloody masturbatory session while staring into His eyes in the photos. He had been so close that day…Castiel could have just raised his hand and touched Him. But He was his God; He was not meant to be touched.

Castiel came on his favorite photo, the one where He was lying on the grass in front of His house, His marvelous skin kissed and abused by the sun. The raven haired man felt jealousy of the rays caressing Him; why couldn’t _he_ cover His body with his own? There was the obvious answer, where He was the center of Castiel’s universe, and therefore he would get the burn of the sinners if he touched Him, and there was the impossible answer; the one where He didn’t want him. Could this be true? While Castiel was meant to love Him, He couldn’t stand his presence?

Clawing at the wall to his right in order to try to calm down, he decided he had to do something about it. He had to have Him, even if he couldn’t touch Him. They were meant to be together, they were _born_ to be together! The man walked the small distance between himself and the picture where his come had started to dry. He spread the fluid all over it, tilting his head at the realization that there was blood there too, even though his arms hadn’t touched the picture. His hands, he noticed. Upon his insane clawing, his nails had gone blunt and were now bloodied, the flesh pumping and sending a pleasant shot of pain up to his neck. He ran his fingertips along the cuts in his arms, wincing at the ache it gave him. Two times he did it again before simply slamming both members against the wall, the photos, and marking them, _Him_.

It wasn’t until two months after that He started taking the same girl to His house repeatedly. Castiel had seen Him with different kinds of female, almost every night, and it truly didn’t bother him. He was having fun, and He could have anything, anyone, He wanted, so why not take advantage of it? But then again, having a regular partner wasn’t acceptable, not when Castiel was just one house away, just waiting for Him to ravish his body and claim what had always been His.

One week later Castiel had gathered all the information about that female; where she lived, where she worked, where she studied, who were the members of her family, how the two of them had met, why He had taken interest on her, and, the most important and devious detail; her name. Her name was Cassie. _Cassie_. How could that be her name? It was so close to Castiel that it was outrageous! They looked nothing alike, not with her dark ebony skin and night-like orbits. She was filthy, and she was taking Him away from him.

So he put action to his thoughts. After having slept on the hard wood of his secret bedroom – who was he fooling, his _sanctuary_ –, and burning all of the photos he had taken of her, were they with Him or not, he had already prepared the most wonderful end to her. And wasn’t that the perfect night to do so? After, He had told her He loved her for the first time on the night before, and if Castiel allowed one more day to go by without doing something, she would rip Him apart with her disgusting claws. She was poisoning Him and she had to be eliminated.

Unfortunately, though, he had lost a lot of time just thinking of different, torturous ways to let her go while smiling and lightening another match to burn the following picture. But he wanted Him to recognize her, to know that Castiel had freed Him from her evil existence. So her appearance had to be intact, what eliminated the blue-eyed man’s favorite technique: the fire. He had thought of so many pretty ways of burning her to ashes that, once he was ready, the moon was shining bright in the sky.

When his tools were carefully gathered, he made his way out of the house, heading to her building. He had decided to wait for her arrival, which shouldn’t be long, considering his own had been ten minutes before the end of her work day. Truly, she was surprised to see the quiet, shy neighbor of the one she had been deceiving, sitting on a cushion chair, just smiling up at her. Everything that happened afterwards went by in a blur. One second, the needle with the paralyzing liquid was on his hands, and the other it was buried deep into her neck, right into her jugular vein and bloodstream.

For the next couple of hours, in which he cut, more like, sawed every joint of her body, he was aware that she was still awake, feeling every single caress of his knife. Her blood dropped to the carpeted floor and the agony on her eyes told him she wanted to scream. The sight made him smile. He was the one who was slowly dragging her away from His life and that was the best feeling he could ask of. By the end of his work, he was proud of himself. The apartment stood as if nobody had ever been there, the stains of blood cleaned by Castiel. Her gelid body rested inside six boxes, one for her feet, one for her legs, one for her torso, one for her arms, one for her hands, and, finally, one for her head. She would never again splatter her venom into His ears and life. He was free now.

After having covered her with chloroform and alcohol, he left the boxes inside his sanctuary, since He was on a work trip that weekend. They felt right there and he even thought about keeping something, like a souvenir, but this was his gift for Him, so he would do it right and deliver the whole package. Half an hour before His arrival on the Sunday night, he left the present in His front porch and waited for Him to get home, comfortably sitting by the window he always watched Him from, his camera carefully seated on his lap, and a shot of whiskey on his right hand, which he sipped mindlessly from time to time.

Right on time, His car was parking inside His garage. Castiel feared for a second He wouldn’t get the gift, but apparently He had seen the boxes, since once His car was safe – He had a pretty massive obsession with it that Castiel found endearing –, He walked to the front door and collected the gift. As he turned them around, probably in search of a note, Castiel stood on the edge of his seat, worried if He would like it or not. Much to his disappointment, he didn’t get the answer, because He decided to open it inside the house. Castiel sighed, standing and heading to his bedroom, calling it an early night.

Six days later, almost at midnight, He appeared by Castiel’s house again. At first he was surprised by His looks; the normally colorful skin was pale, the shiny eyes where blurred, the spiky hair turned into longer locks that stuck to His forehead. By the smell of His breath once He asked to come in, He had been drinking, a lot. Probably partying, Castiel guessed, celebrating the end of that terrible creature. Immediately, he allowed Him inside, guiding Him to the couch and asking if He would like to drink anything. Even before Castiel could register what was happening, lips were pressed against his own.

Had the Angels finally heard his incessant prayers and brought Him to him? Did He finally see that they were meant to love and treasure each other until the end of eternity? Castiel didn’t know, although he decided to consider this as His thank you for the gift. True, it had taken Him longer than Castiel thought, but it didn’t matter; they were together now. As they made their way into the raven haired man’s bedroom, he felt like the luckiest person alive. He was finally compensating him for all of his efforts, all of the nights he had spent adoring Him.

But the next morning came with the frigid truth. He was only drunk. It hadn’t meant anything to Him. He still missed her. He wanted her back. He wanted _her_. Castiel couldn’t process the thought correctly for enough time for Him to ask if he were alright. No answer left his lips; he couldn’t find the words to do so. He didn’t love him? After everything he had done for Him, He still didn’t see it? Castiel tried to tell Him that it was nonsense, that He couldn’t simply have used him for a night of delirious pleasure and decided to throw him away just after. He apologized and went back to His house, saying that He wouldn’t bother him anymore, but her memory was still too vivid for Him to jump into another relationship.

As soon as He had left, Castiel ran to his garage, found the axe he had seen there on his first day in the house, and went straight to his sanctuary. The photos now covered the entirety of the walls, except for the tiny places where he had written His name. With strength and rage he didn’t know he possessed, Castiel raised the axe and screamed as it landed on the wall, ripping the first three photos apart. He didn’t stop after it until there were only wood and shattered parts of pictures remaining of the walls. Every single trace that it had ever been a sanctuary to Him was gone.

But it still wasn’t enough; he still didn’t feel satisfied. The anger was still boiling underneath his skin, and he could only remove his clothes and slam his lean form against the wood, inviting the pain with a groan of both pleasure and longing. Barbs got stuck all over his body, making him feel some kind of shock run up his spine at every movement he made. He closed the door behind himself once he was out of the bedroom and went upstairs to look at his reflection on the mirror. Wrecked, that’s how he looked. A small smile that became a full, sarcastic, and wonderful laughter took over him as he removed each barb with his slender fingers.

The next day, after he had washed himself on his bathtub and hummed a lullaby to clean away the remains from the morning before, he knocked on His door for the first time, a long-sleeved shirt covering the traces of his now holed and injured skin. He was definitely not expecting him, especially not with a suitcase, which he explained to be a gift for Him, and a rehearsed speech saying he was sorry for the way he reacted that morning and asking if that was a good time. Once inside, Castiel analyzed his surroundings, deciding where would be the best place to deliver his little present.

So yes, Castiel knew perfectly how they ended up like this, his God tied to His own bed, looking up in horror at the man in a white corset straddling His hips and whispering soft words into His ear. They were alone at last, and would not be bothered, Castiel made sure of that by putting a sign on His front door, saying He had an important appointment which He couldn’t miss, much like the ones stores hang on their own establishments. Castiel had decided to let His mouth free, hoping He would realize they didn’t need to be in this situation.

“If only you would realize how much you crave for me, how much you love me,” he whispered hotly in His ear, biting at its tip.

Still, He didn’t say anything. Castiel caught the golden rings he had especially bought for this occasion and placed one on his own left hand and the other on His. A beautiful sight, truly. The horror in His eyes started to fade, giving room to a desperate anger that Castiel wanted to dive into. Still, a question kept on nudging Castiel’s brain. Why was He so angry in their wedding day? He lowered himself slightly, his lips brushing his God’s ones, a gentle touch that was a true contrast with the way he was holding His wrists. There was no answer, though, and Castiel pulled away to stare into those forest green orbits that he adored so much. His God was so very quiet that, if it wasn’t for His breathing and blinking, Castiel would have thought his work here was done.

Shaking his head with a small sigh, he stood up, looked for the special knife he had set aside for this moment, and crawled back into the bed. He didn’t want to torture Him and he wouldn’t do so. After all, this was just a way – the _only_ way – for Him to accept His fate. Of course, He could simply say something and spare Castiel from actually having to do this at all, but as the minutes went by, he realized that it was unavoidable. If they couldn’t be together in life, well, then they would be in death.

He straddled his God’s hips once again, running his hands up His naked chest and leaning down to kiss at the smooth skin. Castiel wanted to make love to Him, right there and then, but a voice at the back of his head told him just how very wrong it was. Honestly, it only made him want to do it even more. Still, he had a task at hand and he had to fulfill it so that he could be with him forever. He ran his fingertips across His temple, trying to make Him understand why he needed to finish this soon.

“It’ll be over quickly, I promise you, my love. You won’t even have time to feel pain,” the blue-eyed said, allowing his fingers up the sandy-colored hair of his God.

A growling noise formed itself on His chest and Castiel smiled weakly, wishing He could have just seen it from the beginning. The baring of His teeth, though, brought him back to reality. He placed the knife gently against His throat and leaned in one last time, kissing His neck and closing his eyes.

“I will eternally love you, my Dean.”


End file.
